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“I’m surprised you landed in a place like this.” He led me down the path between the inn and cottage.
“Me too, but there is something about this place.” I looked at the inn, all lit up in bright white lights for the holiday. Drake had paid for a service to install those. Bless him.
“My mom used to say the same thing when we stayed here.”
I loved that, but it reminded me. “By the way, my parents are coming soon. They’re using our ruse as cover. And ... they’re eager to meet you. As in, I already need to apologize for the embarrassment that is sure to ensue.”
Patrick chuckled but shifted his feet. “Yeah, my family thinks they should come too.”
I stopped and blinked. “When?”
“They’re working out the details. My parents love this place, and they’ve wanted to meet you for a long time. And they believe it will lend credibility to our plan. I suppose they have a point. I would want my parents to be here if we were truly getting married. But I mentioned the inn is booked.”
“Well ... they could stay in the George and Daisy room, a.k.a. the honeymoon suite, until Drake returns in a few weeks.” My head was swimming. His parents, my parents, in the same place. “Wow. This is getting crazy. Are we doing the right thing?” I should have stopped this morning to think about all the complexities before I blurted that I was getting married. I blame George and the sugar coma I was in.
“Absolutely,” he didn’t hesitate.
“But we’re lying.”
He cupped my face with his hands, capturing me with his imploring eyes. “This isn’t a lie. I would have no problem marrying you on December twenty-fourth if I knew you would say yes.”
My eyes bulged—like, an Arnold Schwarzenegger–muscles kind of bulge. It wasn’t lost on me that he didn’t sayChristmas Eve. That was another mystery to solve. You know, after my heart started back up.
Patrick grinned, amused. “Calm down. I’m not asking you. All I’m saying is what I feel for you is real. That malignant human, Dave, will not get away with his degeneracy.”
“Degeneracy?” I giggled.
“Yes, degeneracy. Your sister deserves the dignity of a private wedding, and I for one can’t wait to see him with egg on his face.”
“Egg on his face. You’re really going to give it to him.”
“I’m trying to speak gentlemanly in front of you.”
I liked that. A lot. “Thank you. Most men don’t care about things like that anymore.”
“I’m not most men.” He dropped his hands.
I knew that about him. I strung my arm through his like a lady would. “Would you be so kind as to take me home?” I said, genteel-like.
“It would be my pleasure.”
As we strolled toward the cottage, my mind was racing. Did Patrick really want to marry me? Oh, Charlotte was going to have a field day with that. That is, if I decided to share that confession with her. Who was I kidding? I was going to tell her, even though it would only lend credence to her soul mate notion and the inn calling him here. I guess it wouldn’t be so bad if it were true. Minus the pain haunting Patrick and his children. And, you know, the whole we-hardly-knew-each-other thing. We weren’t in one of those weird reality shows where people got married on the spot. Seriously, there was nothing real about that.
We walked up the stone steps together, Patrick making sure I didn’t slip on any of the ice that always crept up no matter how many times a day we cleared it. Our little cottage blended perfectly into its surroundings. The dark timber and heavy stonework were timeless. I loved the horseshoe-shaped door that was decorated with a real pine wreath. The cottage, too, was decked out in white twinkle lights, making it look like something out of a fairy tale. A quote fromSense and Sensibilitycame to mind: “I advise everybody who is going to build, to build a cottage.”
“I would invite you in, but Charlotte will be up waiting to talk to me.”
Patrick grinned. “I’m sure. It’s all right; I need to get back to Bridgette and Rory.”
“Well.” I rubbed my lips together, feeling a bit awkward. I hadn’t done a porch scene in a very long time. “Thanks for today, I guess. I’m kind of scared for what tomorrow has in store.” I laughed, but I was serious.
Patrick didn’t join in on the laughter. Instead, he tipped my chin with his finger. “All I care about is that you, Bridgette, and Rory will be in it.”
Oh, he was so good with the lines. Like, masterful. Bravo. “That sounds a little scary, but good.”
That got a laugh out of him.
I was in earnest. His kids intimidated me. “Well, good night.”
